A spirited performance, rich in incident and intrigue, and written by one who knows and loves Italy.
live smiled. "No, I do not," she said frankly, "but I don't enjoy them. They make me tired of life."
"Is not that rather a pity?"
"Perhaps; but you have to sift dirt to find diamonds, don't you? And this man says things that are worth tiaras sometimes."
"Surely there must be Italian authors who write books suitable for young people in a pretty style?"
"A pretty style? No doubt. But I don't read them."
The older woman sighed, and then smiled quite pleasantly. "I suppose you are clever. One of my nieces is, and they find her rather a handful. Will you try one of my sandwiches?"
Olive produced her biscuits and bananas, and they munched together in amity. After all, an aunt might be worse than stupid, and this one was quite good-natured, and so kind that her taste in literature might be excused. There were affectionate farewells at the Paris station, where she got out with all her accumulation of bags and bundles.
The train rushed on through the woods of Fontainebl
Orphaned Olive leaves England to stay with cousins in Italy. En route, she meets a kind and charming man. At first, it seems as if we are in for a blithe travelogue, but soon, things begin to go badly, and she suffers the perils of a woman alone in the world. The story ultimately takes on a Jane Eyre-ish quality I found unsatisfying.